True Freedom
by Hll Fire
Summary: After facing terrible loss, Will struggles to find his own freedom on the Black Pearl. Eventually JackWill.
1. True Loss

Chapter 1: True Loss

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            The night, William Turner reflected, was incredibly bright and clear.  The full moon reflected on the ocean, creating a silver trail out of Port Royal and into the endless horizon.  Several ships could be seen on the horizon itself; Navy vessels, merchant ships, possibly a pirate ship or two.  Maybe even the _Black _Pearl___.___

His thoughts turned to its enigmatic captain, Jack Sparrow.  He had not been seen in Port Royal since his last encounter with the gallows over two years ago.  But he had been there; always in the dead of night, and always bearing gifts and fineries that were most likely obtained by less than lawful means; he usually also required Will's services several times – in the form of crafted swords and repaired cannons.

            A sharp moan of pain reached Will's ears from inside the Governor's house, drawing Will's attention back to the present.  Inside the spectacular mansion, Elizabeth was giving birth to their first child, after two years of marriage.  Governor Swann still disapproved of Will and resented Elizabeth's decision to marry beneath her status, but he was never a man to deny his daughter anything.  He had hired the best medical service to be had in the Caribbean for his beloved daughter, despite his less than friendly feelings towards her husband.

            Will had protested that he wanted to stay with his wife, but resistance was futile.  The midwife had bodily thrown him from the room and shut the door behind him rather forcefully.  Instead of staying inside the hall with the impatient and pacing Governor, Will took to the gardens and the sheer cliffs that dropped to the swirling sea below.  He listened to the sounds from the house and tried to piece together what was happening inside.  He knew little of childbirth, but he could tell that it was incredibly painful for Elizabeth; it tore at his heart that he couldn't be there with her.

            He had been outside for hours when the noise finally stopped.  He made his way back into the house, where he found the grim face of the midwife carrying a small bundle wrapped in white linen.

            "I'm sorry, Mr. Turner," she said softly, without meeting his eye.  The evasiveness of the look told him everything that he needed to know.  He turned and fled up the stairs to Elizabeth's room, ignoring his father-in-law, who was still pacing the small in the small hallway outside.  He guessed that Elizabeth would have wanted to see him first.

            Halting in front of the door, Will pushed it open, and the sight that met his eye made his heart clench.  In the center of the large bed lay Elizabeth, sheets drawn up to her chest.  Her wavy brown hair was pooled about her shoulders in a damp and tangled mass, and her hands were draped limply across her stomach.  When she saw Will, a single tear dripped from the corner of her eye, drifted without purpose across her cheekbone and found solace in the tangled mass of her hair.

            Will walked over to her side and took her hand, using his other to smooth away the tear track.

            "We had a son, Will," she said softly to the sheets pooled under her hands.  It seemed to Will that she was unable to meet his eyes.

            "I know, Elizabeth," he responded, caressing her forehead again, calling her eyes to his.  "It breaks my heart, but at least I still have you.  I love you."

"I love you, my pirate." She said breathed, closing her eyes.  Will leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  He pulled a chair over next to the bed, and sat down, taking her hand once again in his.  He sat awake for several hours, watching the ships still visible out at sea.  Gradually, he drifted to sleep as the moon sank below the horizon, erasing its previously glorious trail.

            Several hours later, he woke suddenly.  Sunlight was streaming through the window, and it seemed as though it would be a beautiful day.  As thought returned to his mind, he remembered what happened the night before, and the apparently good weather and warm sun was lost on Will.  Stretching his cramped neck, he reached out to smooth down Elizabeth's hair.  Halfway through the gesture, he stopped, and sank to his knees beside the bed.  Her forehead was icy cold.  Taking her other hand, he found the same thing.  Placing his free hand over her mouth and nose, he felt no breathing.

            Too wracked with grief to do anything, he simply sat there, cupping her one cold hand in his two warm ones as if to transfer his warmth and life to her.  The tears refused to come, and it was more painful than if they had been flowing freely.

*******

            Later that morning morning, the sun continued its journey and begat the foretold beautiful day.  But the first strong rays to invade the governor's mansion fell on someone unappreciative of their beauty and warmth.  Grieving over the death of his wife and newborn son, William turner had not stirred position since he had woken during the dawn.  When Estella entered to wake her mistress, she found him there, still clutching Elizabeth's cold hand.  She quietly left the room and ran to find the Governor.

            As soon as he entered, Will rose and left without a second glance.  He started towards the smithy, but stopped halfway there.  It seemed so futile to go back to work so soon after loosing his wife.  Nevertheless, he continued his journey.  There were several orders to be completed, and the rhythmic pounding of the hammers and the heat of the forge would warm him; make him forget. 

            Several hours later, he realized that it was a lost cause.  He felt no heat from the forge, even though he had never had it burning so bright.  The sun fell behind the buildings of the narrow street and what little warmth was given by the rays was lost.  He put down the hammer and abandoned the forge.

            He started towards the cliffs that fell away to the sea, but stopped.  The sea could offer no solace to him.  It had brought them together in the first place, on that fateful day, ten years ago now when they had pulled him from the water.  The sea had given them the courage to speak without restraint in the aftermath of the curse and Jack's rescue from the gallows.  The sea had always been their friend, yet he could not turn to it for comfort now.  Not without Elizabeth.

Despite his reluctance to find comfort in the sea itself, he thought that he might find comfort in a friend as again, he thought of Jack.  But there was no way to find the pirate without commandeering a boat and sailing to Tortuga.  But he had rudimentary knowledge of sailing, and no compass to speak of; he would be lost at sea and die very soon.  Though, he reflected, he would soon be re-united with his beloved Elizabeth.  The idea had an appeal, and he turned his path towards the harbor.  His determination faltered when an arm reached out of a dark alleyway and pulled him into an equally dark pub.

            "And why would you be wandering by yourself in this ne'er do well part of town, while a beautiful woman waits for you in a mansion, mate?"

            "Jack!  What on earth are you doing here in broad daylight?"

            Seeing his friend surprised Will, who had only been toying with the idea of finding the elusive man.  Jack never came to port, especially in Port Royal with Commodore Norrington still in command, unless he needed something.  Last time he brought a white pearl necklace with a black pearl and diamond pendant for Elizabeth, and six cannons to be repaired for Will.  That had been eight months ago.

            "Where's your bonny lass?  I've some trinkets for her.  They match that necklace I brought last time."

            "I'm sure they would be appreciated," Will ground out, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

            The unnatural edge to Will's voice caused Jack to stop his normal swagger and stand still, a serious look on his face that Will had only seen there once before – the same time Jack finally used his single shot.

            "You seem to be a bit distracted." He said without any preamble or further comment.

            "Elizabeth delivered our son last night."  Will started at the emptiness of his own voice.

            "You should be celebrating, lad!  I've some rum—"

            "He's dead," Will interrupted; the bitterness and grief that he had been fighting against were creeping back into his voice.

            "Then you should be with Elizabeth,"  Jack said, the uncharacteristic soberness taking control of his voice for a second time.

            "She died in the night."

            Jack said nothing, showing wisdom that was normally thrown away in exchange for rum.

            Will remained silent.  Instead of speaking he just stood there.  He could feel the heat radiating from Jack and the freezing chill that had penetrated his bones at the loss of his family started to lift, though the daylight had vanished long ago.

            They took a table, and sat for several hours, not speaking.  Will remained wrapped in the grief that would not loosen its hold.  He still could not cry for his wife.

            At long last, they parted.  Will went back to the smithy and spent the night in his master's abandoned rooms in the back.  There was a straw mat in one corner, but no blankets, and no other furniture.  It had all been sold to pay Mr. Brown's considerable drinking debts.  Will didn't really care.  The slight chill in the air and the hardness of the ground did not penetrate his shell of pain and numbness.

            For several days, he continued to work without thinking or feeling.  He had been learning and practicing his trade for ten years, so the chores of making horse shoes and door handles required little thought and large muscles.  Jack did not return, and Will missed having someone around who would talk to him.  No customers came in, as they were not expecting any finished orders, and for some inexplicable reason, no new orders came.  A week later, he had a pile of finished pieces sitting around the shop, and nothing left to occupy his time.

            He took a rod of iron out of the fire and taking careful note of the color and weight of it, he selected a hammer and started pounding it flat.  He did not know what he was making, but he knew that it would eventually shape itself to his desire.

            He poured out his grief into the unfeeling metal and kept beating it long after the iron was too flat to make anything useful, and the metal had cooled itself far enough to loose the customary red glow.  Will did not notice.  The ringing of his hammer matching his heart beat for beat.

            When the door opened, Will took no notice.  When a suspicious character entered, he still didn't notice.  He did not stop pounding the helpless bit of metal until someone grabbed his wrist from behind and snatched the hammer out of his hand.

            Grabbing the useless rod in front of him, Will turned and found himself face to face with Jack.  The pirate plucked the rod out of Will's astonished hand and threw the two potential weapons behind him.

            "I'm in need of a capable blacksmith, Mr. Turner.  You wouldn't happen to know where I can find one?"  Jack gave a small lopsided smirk as he spoke.  His requests for service were always the same.

            "I do believe I know one.  What will you be needing?"  Will replied without thought.  He knew that he'd help Jack with anything the captain required.  He always did.

            "I've a few cannons that were damaged on the high seas.  A pirate attack.  I need them repaired before I can set sail again.  Unpredictable, pirates are."

            Will remained silent, stopping their usual conversation.  After a few moments he replied.  "Where's your ship?  I'll get to it right away.  I've no other business waiting."

            "This is a long job, mate.  We're not going to be able to bring the guns up to the forge.  We'll need you to come with us to another forge.  I'll not stay in this place under the Commodore's nose any longer.  I came the closest I've ever been to being hanged under his command."

            Will opened his mouth to make a comment, but stopped halfway through, unsure as to what he could say.

            Jack continued talking.  "This will sound a bit crude, but since you've no attachments to Port Royal, I've a second proposition for you."

            Will continued to stand in silence.

            "I need your skills as a blacksmith at the moment, but  I'm also a hand short on the _Pearl.  After you finish the job, you'll be a member of equal standing in the crew. I'm inclined to give you some space in my quarters instead of with the crew, because I know what Elizabeth meant to you.  Everyone splits the plunder, and we all work hard, savvy?"_

            Jack's voice from two years ago echoed in his head.  _The pirate's in your blood boy, so you'll have to square with that someday.  His first experience with pirates had shaped his opinion of them.  As a child, they had left him for dead in the middle of the ocean.  He had told Jack that he practiced swordplay to be able to kill pirates during his first encounter with him.  Sailing with Jack and his crew had taught him that a person could be a pirate and be a good man at the same time, but his reluctance to join any crew was a residual of Barbossa's knife being held at his throat to pay the heathen gods for the gold they stole._

            As they stood there, the unmistakable sound of marching grew louder as it came up the street.  He gathered that someone had seen either Jack or the _Pearl_, and guessed his whereabouts.  It was no secret that Will Turner had a soft spot for Jack after their adventure.  All the times Jack was suspected to be in Port Royal, the first person that Norrington approached was always Will.  He didn't dare interrogate Elizabeth.

            Grabbing a sword from a nearby rack, he looked at Jack and nodded.  Jack grabbed a second weapon, and they ran for the back door of the smithy.  It opened into one of the shabbiest alleys in the city, known only to the prostitutes who inhabited the place on a regular basis, and their clients.  The two crept up the dark, twisted passage and made their way slowly down to the small sandy beach hidden about a mile away from the harbor.

            Glancing around as they left for any stray navy personnel or a vengeful commodore, they scrambled into the dingy that Jack had left on the beach and rowed around the point to meet the _Pearl._

********* 

**Author's Note:**

_It has been pointed out to me that Will would be a rather reluctant pirate.  He did it to save __Elizabeth__ the first time, but would he actually do it again?  This story is going to explore the darker side of Will's personality and desires; a side we don't really see in the movie, but is probably lurking in the background.  He will have to square with the pirate in his blood someday.  That day is today, as I've written it._

_This is the first PotC I've attempted (though I've been writing and reading HP for several years), and I've only recently gotten into the fandom.  As a college student who has limited spare time, my updates won't be daily, though I'm going to try for weekly.  Please be lenient if the chapter isn't up quickly.  My heart belongs to fanfiction, but my soul has been forcibly sold to OChem.  If there's lots of ochem and lab work, the time for fanfic writing is severely limited._


	2. Welcome aboard the Black Pearl, Mr Turne...

Chapter 2: Welcome aboard the _Black __Pearl_, Mr. Turner

            Feeling the wind in his face was the first thing that pushed past the barrier of pain that Will had felt after loosing Elizabeth.  In the beginning, Jack had required little work, so that left Will free to just lean over the railing of the deck, close his eyes, and feel the cleansing effect of the cool, salty air.  Normally, the crew left him keep to his own thoughts. This time, the wind hit his entire body, cleansing and relaxing at the same time, but just as he was starting to forget about the mess that was the last part of his life in Port Royal, a hand on his back startled him out of the peace he was seeking.

            "Marvelous feeling, ain't it, lad?"  Jack spoke, leaning close to Will's ear.

            Will stayed silent, waiting for his Captain to speak again.

            "We dock in Tortuga tomorrow, mate.  I'll find you a forge so you can fix these guns of ours.  Never know when we might need to fend off the Commodore."

            Will nodded once, closing his eyes again, eager to feel only the wind again.  Recognizing Will's desire, Jack left, his fingers trailing lightly across Will's back as he left.  Will shivered as the hand finally broke its contact.

            He had not wanted to feel it in the first place; the only person who had a right to touch him like that was Elizabeth.  But of course, she couldn't do that any longer.  Jack's touch had not been wanted, but had left a void in its absence.  The wind alone could not satisfy Will any more that night.  Confused, he turned and went back to his own bunk in Jack's cabin.  It was nowhere near as grand as the captain's bed, but it was just big enough for him.  He had a feeling that Jack would know that anything bigger would make him feel more alone than he already did.

            That night, Will settled down on the straw mattress, shifting around until he found a position that lacked straw lumps poking him in the back.  He pulled his blankets around his tense body in a tight cocoon, trying to regain the warmth that Jack's light touch had taken away from him.

********** 

            Will didn't know where Jack had gotten the right to use the forge, but it was better than anything he expected to find.  But perhaps not.  Tortuga was, afterall, a pirate town, and a pirate always has need of a good weapon and a strong cannon.

            He started to work the bellows and felt his stik start to heat along with the fire.  His hands were still chilled, along with the small, hand sized area at the small of his back. He ignored it and started his work.

            As he pounded the steel into its place, Will contemplated Jack's recent strange behavior.  At times, the captain would make excuses to talk to him, whether the matter was urgent or not.  At other times, it was impossible to find the mystifying man, even in the confined area of a ship on the open ocean.  

            Jack seemed to be in two minds about having Will aboard.  He would sometimes try to explain the ship's workings in great detail, guiding Will around the decks, pulling ropes and checking the tension on the sails as he went.  At these times, he would inevitably initiate some physical contact, keeping it as long as possible.  Will found himself looking forward to these impromptu sessions.  But they were always cut short and when he returned to Jack's cabin some time later, he would find Jack asleep on his bed, with an empty bottle of rum at his side.

            When not in the mood for teaching the business of sailing to Will, Jack would stay at the helm, silent and stoic, if such a term could be applied to the energetic and scheming captain.  He would speak in short, clipped remarks, and not even shout his usual insults at the crew.

            His behavior confused Will to no end, which was why he thought about it while doing the meaningless task of pounding a rod of iron into a flat sheet to be applied to the cannon.

            What was even more confusing was that he felt Jack's absence more than he cared to admit.  He had felt as though he was underwater since he had discovered that Elizabeth was dead.  Not even the forge could completely erase the ice that spread through his body, especially from his hands.  The only source of internal warmth he could find was in the Captain.  And no matter how much he resisted, he came to rely on their brief periods of contact to ease the physical pain a bit.

            He doused the steel in a bucket nearby, and slumped against the wall in the close forge.  Closing his eyes, he pressed back hoping to even out the heat of his back, even if it meant being cold again.  When his skin refused to cooperate, he closed his eyes and ignored the fire, letting it die for the night.

            The light faded from bright red to a gentle glowing orange before he moved again.  Putting away the tools, he closed the door and headed back down to the tavern to join the crew for dinner.

            Hordes of people were in the small pub, slamming into each other in their haste to get food, drink of the eye of one of the numerous girls sidling around the room.  At any one time, there were several men competing with gold and jewels for the company of the women.  Will slid past all of them, refusing to let his eyes linger on the uninhibited bodies around him.  Keeping his eyes on the floor, he slid into the empty seat next to Jack and eyed the food that was pushed in front of him.  After a week of subsisting on salt pork and hard tack, the hot food was welcome, if questionable in origin.  He slowly started eating, focusing on his plate and ignoring the warmth spreading through his body from the contact point of his elbow against Jack's.

            The captain didn't appear to notice Will's distraction as he slowly ate, feeling warmer than he had for weeks.  Before long, he was actually starting to feel feverish.  Before too long, the heat became unbearable.  Standing abruptly, he pushed past everyone and almost ran down to the dock, stopping just at the edge before throwing himself in to cool the feverish feeling on his skin.  It was much worse than the chill.  He knew the origins of the coldness that threatened to overwhelm him if he didn't keep it in careful check.

            The fever was beyond any control.  He did not know where it came from.  He could not figure out how to control it, other than to abandon his place next to Jack, whose presence seemed to initiate the slow, smoldering burn.  He stood on the very edge of the dock, spreading his arms to feel as much of the wind on his entire body as was possible.

            For several moments, there was no fire or ice anywhere on his skin.  There was only the wind and the sea.  In that one moment he could pretend that he was still a lad in England; a boy who barely remembered his father; a boy who had not sailed with pirates; a boy who had not met, fallen in love, and married Elizabeth Swann; a boy who had not suffered the loss of his entire family.  Time didn't exist, and his confusion melted away for a minute.

            The peace shattered when a footstep reverberated on the dock.  Will composed himself before turning around to find Jack at the other end of the shoddy deck, standing without his usual swagger.  The glitter that was normally present in his eyes had fled, leaving deep pools in their wake.  In an instant, Will could feel his skin heating again.

            Without a word, he strode the length of the deck, steps echoing in the abandoned harbor.  He pushed past Jack and continued up the hill back to the tavern where the rest of the crew was still gathered.  He spotted Annamaria talking to Gibbs in a back table talking quietly amongst themselves.  They had acted as politely as pirates were expected to act, but had not included him in the random bouts of songs and tales that were always being sung and told after supper.  The other crewmembers continued to ignore his presence, with the exception of Cotton's Parrot.  Back in the present, most of the other members had found girls to entertain them.  Despite the large number of men who sailed on the _Pearl__, _there were still many girls looking for a single paying customer.

            Without thinking, Will slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered his coin purse.  He figured that he'd have enough for one night, or at the least a couple of hours.  He almost started towards a thin, once-beautiful girl that had caught his eye, but stopped himself.  He had been raised to know that this sort of conduct was wrong, just as he had always been told that pirates were evil.  

            Barbossa had certainly filled the space of Evil Pirate in his life, but what of Jack, and the rest of the men he sailed with.  They were all good men (except for Annamaria, who was, in fact, a woman).  Jack was so far outside any image he had ever held about pirates, and he felt drawn to the man's unpredictable character.  As much as he wanted to accept and be accepted by Jack, he held himself back, feeling that any contact between them would be improper.  Not that being a pirate was proper, of course, but there were some barriers in his teachings that he refused to throw to the wind.

            Once again, he left the tavern in haste.  This time he walked up the street, past the forge and to the highest point that he could reach on the rock that was Tortuga.

            Looking out to the ocean, there was almost nothing visible.  The moon was completely black, and the ocean was a void that reflected nothing, not even the brightest stars.  In truth, the ocean reflected his mind.  Out there was chaos tonight, just as there was chaos in Will's heart.  He felt that he was being unfaithful to his wife; and at the same time that he was in some inexplicable way, hurting Jack.  He had dropped his respectable life in Port Royal on a whim, though he did have the commodore's sword point almost literally poking him in the back.  

Had he disappointed Elizabeth with his choice?  She approved of Jack, but would she really approve of her husband joining his crew?  She had once appealed to her father to grant him clemency, and that request had allowed him to rescue Jack in his closest call with the gallows.  In return, Jack had brought him occasional business and had now rescued him from his darkest moments.  What else did he owe the captain?  And could he really pay that debt if he was able?

Leaving his questions to float out to sea with his thoughts, he turned and went back to the tavern.  Ordering a drink this time, he sat down with Annamaria and Gibbs, since they were the only two of the _Pearl__'s_ crew that were still sensible.  Gibbs' eyes were starting to wander, though and he felt Annamaria's temper rising.  Not wanting to provoke either of the two, he kept silent, and swept his eyes across the room, observing the customers that were not passed out.  

His eyes alighted on a girl in the back corner.  She was quieter than the others, with clothes that were a bit cleaner, but there was no mistaking her profession.  She had an air about her that was unusual for the girls seen in the city, and she got much less business because of it.  Will watched her as she stoically observed all of the others get several customers, without even getting an offer.  Will was sorely tempted to make one himself, not least because she reminded him slightly of Elizabeth, but managed at the last minute to keep himself in his seat.  His upbringing wouldn't allow him to engage in that sort of conduct.  Feeling furious for even considering taking up with her, but still feeling drawn to the silent girl, he kept his eyes on her the whole night.  If Jack noticed, he did not remark on it.

*********** 

**_Author's Notes:_**_Well, it's been little longer than a week.  I will attempt to clear myself by saying that I did have it written on time, but circumstances and birthdays kept me from getting around to the edits that my beta had back in a timely manner as well.  Don't expect another chapter for a few weeks, since I have four exams and two papers due next week, then spring break, where I will most likely not have internet access for the week.  I'll post as soon as I can, though, in the aftermath of midterms._

_To all who reviewed: Thanks for the comments, I love feedback, though flames are used to burn the rum and keep me warm when it's really cold out.  Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did (or did not) let me know._


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